Sauron's Exile
by ST LORT
Summary: Sauron didn't die, no the Dark Lord's malice survived, but cursed to never set an foot in Arda again he is banished to Game of Thrones, 15 years before the start of the series.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, Westerosi is updated, so here is the new story, i am going to divide my attention, between these three stories**

This is a very old story, don't be disappointed by bad grammar, it has been re-edited a bit, but not too much, there are some lore mistakes and grammatical mistakes.

I thought, why don't fu'k up Game of Thrones by sending Sauron there.

Chapter 1: The Nothing of Death

The black tower of Barad-Dur collapses, The Eye's pupil widens in fear, realizing what had happened. The Ring was cast into the fire, destroying his last hold on this world, as the tower gets closer to the ground, the Eye disintegrated into a final blast, destroying the ground and rippling through the air, letting the ground shakes for thousands of miles, thousands of orcs and other vile creatures.

Nothing, Sauron's spirit flew through the darkness, flashes of his life now and then came by.

The song of creation

Sauron, then named Mairon, was there as the Valar, Maiar and Eru created Arda, Mairon participated in the songs or good, and initially didn't join Melkors song of discord, and stood by the song of creation.

This flash of his life dissipates, as it is replaced by another, it flashes to a later period in his long life.

Learning from Aule

Mairon hammers on a piece of mithril with the instructions of Aule aiding him , at this point in his life he is like Eru created him, good and uncorrupted, Mairon puts the mithril in a case of water and wipes sweat off his forehead

The image starts to dissipate as well as it now changes to a more dark and schokery view.

Images of him serving Melkor, as the latter's lieutenant, his defeat at the hands of Heorn, and the fall of Angbad, after the Valars attack. He begging for mercy at the feet of the Valar.

His run and hiding, teaching the elves how to craft the rings of power but secretly crafting a Master Ring to control all others.

One for one, the countries of Middle-Earth fell under his onslaught, but a last alliance of Men and Elves marched at Mordor, it destroyed the Black Gate, but at the cost of the Noldor High King Gilgalad, Sauron was pleased with that token victory, but the Alliance, Elrond taking command of the Elven Part marched at Mount Doom, the battle quickly turned against Sauron, and he had to get out there.

His presence gave courage to the orc horde he commanded, and turning them into an battle-frenzy, his mighty hauls with his (mace-thingy?), elves and men fell under him, then the Gondor High King Elendil dashed forward, but as knocked aside, instantly killed.

Isuldur ran to his father's aid, when he tried to pick up his father's sword, Sauron stepped on it, breaking the blade in two, Sauron raised out his hand for Isuldur, who swinged the remains of his father's sword at Sauron, cutting off The One Ring of Power, Sauron imploded, his being destroyed, but his spirit alive.

The memory disappears, the view gets even more shaky and unclear, as at this point it has no use trying to explain in detail, as Sauron couldn't make them out himself.

A light, a light, a tunnel of darkness, but at the end a light.

Sauron wanted to go to the light, but then hesitated and turned around, he has made his choices in life, and his death will reflect on them, not change his heart, to the light.

The Darkness is gone, Sauron opens his eyes, he lies on a grassy plane with flowers around him, not far across is a farmer who is tending to his crops.

He looks at his hands, and is scared by their look… White and fair, he crawls to a small pond not too far, his elven from, from the time he could still change forms stares back at him.

A motion behind him, a blur, black. Nazgul?

He stands up and looks behind him.

Eight of the Nine.

The ones that fell under the explosion of Mount Doom.

'How did you get here?, How do you walk under the sun?'

One of the Nazgul sissed back in the language of Mordor, a language that I will for mine, and the ease of the reader write down in English.

'Don't know, Don't know'

'Weapons?' Sauron's evil mind runs with millions of ideas as he realized what he could do alone with eight of his most deadly servants

'Standard weapons that we carry, Morgul Blade, Longsword, some reserves'

Sauron extends his hand 'Give me a sword, I don't know where we are, but it will fall, to the power of darkness!'

One of the Nazgul hands Sauron a sword, the latter spins it around, and notices the charcoal remains on the edges.

He looks around and spots the farmer, and with quick graceful steps walks towards him.

The farmer tending to his crops, the sun shining in his eyes, looks up, his big straw hat moves in the wind, someone approaches, no there are more eight or nine of them.

'Good day, could you be so kind to point the way to the nearest castle'

The person stood far enough so that the farmer could not make out any details, but not far enough to be not visible.

'That way, just go that way and you'll get there eventually, milord' the Farmer pointed east.

Sauron nodded and looked in the eastern direction, in the distance he could see a from vaguely representing a castle.

'Thank you'. Sauron than drives his sword straight through the farmer, and pulls it out leaving the farmer to bleed to death.

As he walks away, he doesn't look at the farmer, who is doing desperate attempts to keep his insides inside.

Sauron looks at the black castle (Blackcrown, castle in the Reach), hidden from view in the shadows of the trees.

He nods to the eight Nazgul.

'If possible, use you're Morgul blades to turn them into wraiths'

The hoods of the Nazgul moved, Sauron excepted that as a yes, and moved out of his hiding spot, he started mumbling in a language only he and a few select others understood, as his wording chant became louder, an unnatural mist came up to the edges of the castle

One of the soldiers standing watch, looks over his field of watch once more, he stands in front of the open gate, at the other side three more soldiers sit in the protection of the gate, as suddenly an unnatural mist comes on, the soldier stands up and pulls out his sword, he calls for the other three, some weapon noise is heard as the other soldiers get up from their comfortable spots, and walk towards him, complaining.

'What is it now, seeing ghosts again are you?' The lead one of the soldiers more heavily armored than the rest, looks at the soldier who was standing watch. The two behind him, chuckle at the leaders statement, but their chuckling fades as they see what comes out of the shadows.

The Nazgul slowly appears out of the shadow and draws his sword, his iron gloved hands crunch as they tighten their grip around the hilt of the jagged sword, four more appear, as the first slowly steps forward, his armor hearable from beneath his ropes crunches, with each step. As he points his sword forward horizontally.

The soldiers stagger back, the fear visible in their eyes, as the Nazgul stabs forward, his sword cutting through the armor of the leader like an knife through butter the blood splattering over the soldiers behind their leader, as he falls on his knees, the Nazgul grabs him by his head, and forces him to look at him, the shock and fear of imminent death shattering the man, as the Nazgul with an horizontal slash of his sword, cleanly cuts of his head, as the Leader's lifeless body collapses unto the floor, the Nazgul raises the head in triumph letting out an ear deafening screech.

The last straw fell, seeing their leader fall at the hands of this unknown demon, the soldiers turn on their heels and run, shouting demon as they pass through the gate, Soldiers rush out of their barracks leaded by twenty Blackcrown Knights hearing the shouts of Demons and the screech, having clumsily put on their armor, they see their comrades run at them, screaming, the blood drips from their leather cuirasses, one of them runs to a knight, clearly the leader, his helmet crowned with a black feather The Duke, the soldier tries to get up, and holds himself at the Duke's shoulder .

'Demons, Demons, the Sergeant dead!'

The Duke looks at the sorry excuse of a soldier, who has started to cry.

He spits on the ground.

'Demons! Bwahh!' He pushes the soldier to the ground.

'What are you, who dares to call himself a soldier!' He shouts at the soldiers who…

**(I don't know the English word for this, the Dutch word for it is ''krimpt in een' In Spanish, 'encogerse', I can go on and on and on, because there is no better translation I will use 'shrivel' I don't know if it is correct, but yea… You gotta do with what you have to do it)**

shrivels, and takes the storm of insults.

The Duke pulls him up and pushes him to the gate, and he orders his knights to do the same with the other two.

'Go, go see you're demons!'

The soldier pulls away white, as he realized he had two choices, be beheaded by the Duke or face the Demons, the second choice seemed more resentful to him so he planted his foot in the ground and stood firm, straightened his back to try to look tall.

The Duke smiles from beneath his helmet.

'It's treason then' and then in one quick motion grabs his axe from his belt and chops the soldier's head straight off.

A silence goes through his soldiers, as the body falls backwards on the ground , in a growing pool of blood.

He points to the other two.

'Go or Die!'

The soldiers not thinking twice run to the gate and disappear in the mist.

An eerie silence falls as everyone listens for sounds, several more moments pass, as the only sound is the howling of the wind. Then… a scream.

One of the soldiers tries to crawl out of the mist battered with wounds, he tries to crawl further but stops.

'Help…. Meee' he lifts his hand to the Duke who stands motionless a few feet away. Then he is pulled away at his feet, and the only sound heared is the soldiers scream, that ceases after several moments.

**I hope this is good enough, if not warn me , and I will double my efforts. Good night**

**Sincerely ST LORT**


	2. Chapter 2

**We have come to honor that alliance**

**-Haldir**

**Part 2,.**

**Replies to Questions**

**Yo: What do you mean by a Beta**

**-That I make a Beta Account?**

**-Or that an Beta needs to come and check this story out?**

The Duke carefully looks into the mist, as an man steps out, fair of form, his face faced to the ground, a jagged sword in his hand.

'You killed my men!?. Hah!. I will crush you under my boot, insect'. The Duke replaces the weight of his axe in his hands, as the man looks up, an indescribable hate burning in his eyes , fiery as hell.

Then eight more creatures hooded in black robes, an aura of darkness surrounding them step out of the mist, six of them holding the same type of sword in their hands as the man, but two of them hold daggers, they form up in a wedge behind the man, their weapons ready for combat.

'Surrender or DIE!' , The anger coming out of the man's mouth is inconsistent with his features, fair and just, but his eyes and words betray his true nature, hate, suffering…..Death.

The Duke stands silent and frozen, at these apparitions, he tries to speak, but his tongue is glued to the top of his mouth.

'Death it is…' The Man raises his sword and charges at the Duke, who awaken from his frozen stance, and quickly brings his axe up to block the sword, the sound of metal hitting each other, sounds over the plain.

The Nazgul follow their Master, they let out an ear-deafening screech, which makes the soldiers shrivel, and then they charge, the two with the daggers are there first, stabbing a soldier with one quick stab in the chest, what makes him drop his sword if it was made of melting iron, the soldier falls on his knees as the Wraith-curse starts to spread in him.

The massacre begins, the Nazgul start chopping up everything in their path, soldiers and several knights fall in their path.

The Duke and Sauron exchange blows, Sauron immediately gaining the upper hand, with his greater agility and strength, he manages to land a blow which knocks the Duke's helmet off, The Duke's is riddled with scars both from battles and tourneys.

Sauron then uses his powers to fly rocks the size of an shield at the duke, knocking the Duke against the wall, a few dozen feet away . As the Duke slowly comes up, using his Axe for support, he looks around, the Nazgul finish off his men, hundred or more soldiers slain by nine creatures in no time, is there nothing stopping them. Sauron approaches and grabs him by the face lifting him high up, as he starts mumbling a chant.

Slowly the Duke, feels a huge pain in his face, as Sauron slowly starts to melt it, the Duke screams, second later, his armor falls on the ground with a big thump, Sauron turns away from the petty remains of The Duke. One of the Nazgul corners five remaining men, and is about to kill them.

Sauron raises his hand, the Nazgul feels the command of Sauron and hold his sword mid-air, the soldier gasps for air, as the sword is only a few centimeters away from piercing his face and bloodying the wall behind him .

'Leave them alive, I have other uses for them'.

Sauron walks on the stairs that lead up to the wall, he rests his hands on the old battlement overcome with ivy. He looks over an fertile land with forests , streams and lakes, farms and small villages, as he studies it, a vision comes to him, showing in much detail, every aspect of the world

Khâmul, the most powerful of the Nazgul after the Witch-King, stands beside him.

'**What is your bidding master**?'

'Go to Essos, the county is a lot like the country of you old rule ,so you will be the best representative there, take two Nazgul with you, preferable the ones that ruled regions with similar cultures'

Sauron turns to the massacre of blood, and starts his magic. (A/N, I had to bring the fell beasts back, afcourse Khamûl goes to Essos, next part is in tengwar runes, elven letters, for the non-nerds among you, sorry edited this in later, it doesn't recoginse Tengwar so it's going to be very broken English. Sorry)

'**Fear of men, scourge of the skies, I call upon you, with this blood offer, awaken, take your revenge on the world of men, and once again you will become symbols of darkness and fear in the known world****''**

As the last word comes out of Sauron's mouth, the blood begins to twitch, and slowly black creatures start to arise, first the head forms, followed by a pair of mighty wings, the rest of the body, and the legs. This process repeats itself until, most off the blood on the courtyard is sucked away. Three winged creatures stand on the courtyard, they have their wings folded and reveal their large yellow teeth, the spikes on their spine stand up as they unleash an unnerving scream.

''Go'' Sauron waves Khâmul away.

Khâmul makes a bow and then heads to the Fell beasts.

Sauron once again rests his arms on the battlements, a single thought going through his head.

_There is much to be done_

The room is decorated spartanly, with only needed furniture present in the room, not that it matters. Sauron walks through the room at the top of the Donjon, it belonged to the Duke, Sauron sits down on the uncomfortable wooden chair behind the Duke's desk. He quickly skips through the papers at the desk, until his eyes fall upon a journal casing through the events that have recently occurred.

_The year 283 after Aegon's conquest, the Targaryens are no more, their Dragons skulls now adorn the wall of the Red Keep, Jaime Lannister, member of the King's Guard has slain the Mad King, earning him the name Kingslayer. This now marks the end of Roberts Rebellion, with the latter on the throne, King's Landing sacked by the Lannister Armies ,leaded by Tywin Lannister._

_The last battle has been fought at Dragonstone, where Stannis has overrun the Castle Defenses and destroyed the King foe's, now The Lords of the Seven Kingdoms swear fealty to King Robert Baratheon, Ruler of Westeros._

Sauron sat back in the chair, thinking on these recent revelations.

He stood up, and walked to the wall, where an detailed map of Westeros hang, his fingers touched the fragile map, on the spot that carried the name of ''''Blackcrown'''', he then moved along to King's Landing, where an second spot was placed, called the red keep. Sauron thought deeply on his next move, a foreign land, no armies, then deception must be the tool of choice. He left the tower and went outside, the twitching bodies of those stabbed with the Morgul Blades lay on the castle floor as one of the Nazgul guards the prisoners, he walks to one of the Nazgul who is looting one of the bodies.

''Do you know how the first orcs where made?''

The Nazgul looks up holding an gold ring in his hand, they may once have been very precious to the man who carried it, but now was no more than simple jewelry, not of great quality either.

''**No master I do not**''. The Nazgul replies as he throws the ring on the pile of more useless junk.

''They were once Elves and Men tortured being reckoning by Morgoth, to suit his means as his dark enforcer that would enforce his Iron will on Middle-Earth. Do you know now why I spared those men?''

If Sauron could have looked under that dark hood he would have sweared that an evil smirk formed on the features of the Nazgul.

He grabbed the Nazgul by the shoulder and walked with him to the prisoners.

''I have a job for you.'' After saying that Sauron's grey eyes light up as an fire, burning with hate as an smile forms on his fine features

**Good to be writing again, school has been overloading me with tests, that couldn't have been learned one-two (French-German-Dutch-English-Math) in three days. But now I have a small respite and will try to update all my stories I have running. Cheers and have a very excellent day.**

**Sincerely ST LORT**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3, I was a bit stuck with my decisions but I am finally able to update this story.**

**Enjoy.**

_(This signals Sauron's thoughts, _**This signals Nazgul speaking)**

'_Time, a precious commodity for mortals but for me it has no meaning I have seen all the ages of creation and I will be here to witness the fires of destruction.'_

Sauron walks over the stone courtyard of Blackcrown, he having donned several items of value that were looted from the knights, the finest pieces of armor in the keep he found a set made of a material that he with all the knowledge of the Earth could not name, the boots sounded with each step, an clear echo rippling through the air.

His icy gaze scans the environment going over the several shadows that walk around, wraiths turned by the Morgul blades into ultimate enforcers, they will be an great asset to his plan, they will serve the roll of Commanders of his, to be created Orc Hordes, Assassins, Spies even Diplomats, tools for him to bring Order to this world.

'_Order'_

Sauron stands still, pondering on that thought.

'_What is he doing here!? With a purpose, or why else! If he was useless he would have been with his Master Morgoth now!'_

Sauron shakes his head in an attempt to clear that thought of his mind, but it stays there an bloodsucking leech on his concentration.

'_What if he was sent here to do good?. Eru sending him here to protect people and… NO'_

Sauron's frustration gives off on his wraiths, who curiously raze their heads, but quickly continue their activities when they meet Sauron's gaze.

'_I have chosen my path, and I have no reason to stray off it. Yes, my path is one of Domination and Chaos,…nothing..else'_

He is snapped out of his thoughts as one of his Nazguls approaches him.

''**Master, we have scouted the countryside and found farms, villages and one town, but nothing else''**

The Nazgul stands before Sauron.

''Good, what can you tell me about these lands''

Sauron signals the Nazgul to walk with him, and the Nazgul comes next to him with firm steps, the sound of his heavy metal boots heard over the courtyard, not light and a small ripple, but thunderstrokes compared to the sound of Sauron's boots.

''**It is an quite lush and rich land, but here and there, you have barren lands put to the torch, we interrogated an local citizen and he told us that the Duke put them to the torch for paying a few coins under the tax grade'''**

Sauron nods.

''Anything else?''

''**Yes, the Duke was supposed to visit the King and swear loyalty, and his absence has been noted', we spotted several knights with an deer on their banner on the horizon''**

''Thank you, I am sure you have something to attend to''

Sauron waves the Nazgul away, who makes an quick bow and then walks away.

'_Too soon'_.

Sauron walks through the keep as he hears shackling behind him, he doesn't turn around put keeps walking and opens two massive doors, that lead to an large library.

The library contains an large amount of large bookcases, several tables are placed around where the books can be studied, an stairwell leads to an balcony that runs around the entire length of the wall, with bookcases placed against the wall.

''I suppose that you maintain this?''.

Sauron walks to an bookcase and gently takes an ancient tone of a shelf and blows the dust of it.

The old figure behind him moves closer, the shackling of the chain that he wears are now clearly heard, the man is old with wrinkles but a certain wisdom shines from his eyes.

''Among other things, yes. I am the Maester, keeper of the keep''.

The Maester moves closer and studies the book in Sauron's hand.

''The former lord is dead, isn't your allegiance with him?''

The Maester removes some dust from the book shelf with a motion of his finger and then answers Sauron's questions.

''No it is not, the allegiance of the Maester is to the keep he is assigned to, not to his lord''.

Sauron turns around slowly opening the book and putting it down on one of the tables.

''So, I killed the last lord, massacred his knights and his men, how does that affect your opinion on me?''.

''Enhances it positively, the Duke was an cruel and unjust man, his knights pure monsters, and his men glorified bullies''

Sauron sits down on one of the wooden chairs that are next to the oak wooden table the Maester sits down next to him.

''What if I was to say to you, that I am a million times worse than the Duke, that my men are real monsters, and my 'Knights', shadows of the dark?''

The Maester touches his chain with his left hand, especially the one , that seems like it is made of the same material as Sauron's armor.

''Perhaps, but I feel a turmoil within you, the image that you have of yourself is slowly being torn apart by images left behind by the one that sended you here''.

Sauron freezes in his actions, and turns his gaze on the fragile figure of the Maester.

''But it is of no importance to me, I only serve the one who owns the keep, before the Duke and now it's you. The book that you are reading is the History of Westeros by Grand Maester Maelleon''.

Sauron's attention is returned to the book, the current pages in front of him are detailed the first contains the image of an Dragon with an Silver haired man with noble features riding it below it an battle rages on lush fields.

Sauron's eyes go over the papers in an remarkable speed, it tells about the conquest executed by Aegon the Conqueror who conquered Westeros on the back of Dragons.

The Maester steps closer and studies the page Sauron's reading.

''Aegon the Conqueror, the one who conquered and united Westeros with dragon fire''

'_Dragons'_

Sauron remembers, he remembers Smaug, Ancalagon the Black, and many others that came from the depths of Angband, creations of Morgoth.

''His legacy is destroyed now, the deer took down the dragon in the Battle of the Trident''

Sauron is snapped out of his memories by the Maester, and returned to the world of there and now.

''What is your name Maester, and in what ways are you skilled?''

The Maester curls his fingers around his chain and sits down on one of the table's chairs.

''My name is Jareal, and I am skilled in many things''.

He lifts up his chain that adorns his neck.

''You see these my Lord?, each link stands for a trade, by example''

The Maester lifts the chain by an iron shackle.

''This link made of iron stands for the Art of Warcraft, it means I have successfully studied the art and used it in the field''

Sauron closes the heavy book, and looks at Jareal.

''You mean that you have lead armies in the field, and know how to use tactics, strategy and other aspects of war?''

''Yes, and when I was young and lead an army I swung the blade in the field of battle, although that is now an memory of the distant past''.

Sauron ponders and then raises himself from his chair.

''Good, I have an task for you, do you possess an link for sending messages over ravens, crafting, economy, healing and diplomacy''

The Maester nods,

''I do…My Lord''

Sauron turns around and smirks at people voluntarily calling him ''Lord'', without any intimidation or battle required.

''Then I will send several wraiths to you, I want you to teach them in several arts and some humanity the other thing I want you to do is write an letter to King Robert, detailing that the Duke has come to an unfortunate end in an hunting trip and that I, Sauron as his only remaining relative has taken up control of Blackcrown and the surrounding regions''.

Jareal nods again.

''Send your wraiths and I will teach them, my Lord and when I am done with the message I will let you see it before sending it''

''Good''

Sauron nods Jareal goodbye and Jareal nods back.

Sauron sits in his new study, and listens to the last sentences of Jareal's message.

''And after my relative's unfortunate end, I will rule these lands fair and dutiful in your name.

Signed by…

Sauron of the house Larot. ''

Jareal lowers the letter and looks at Sauron.

''The only thing it needs is your seal of approval, my lord''

Sauron picks up the Duke's old seal, he frowns.

The seal is made up by two crossed axes

'_No wonder this ''Duke'' liked axes''_

Sauron remembered one of his powers before he became the Dark Lord, the power to change the physical essence of the world by mere will.

Sauron moves his hand over the seal, barely a millimeter from touching it, he concentrated, and saw how the seal changed into a lidless eye.

Sauron smiles at his accomplishment, as it has been long since he could do that, and it feels..enlightening to do it once again.

''My lord?''

Sauron hadn't noticed that Jareal was reaching the letter to him and had been standing there for some time.

Sauron takes the letter and presses his seal on it, and then returns it to Jareal, who nods and leaves the room.

'_This rebirth is proving to be very appreciated'_

Sauron's eyes light up, and an smile forms on his face.

**This wasn't as good as the previous chapters, if I may say, and now I have an question for you. It is concerning Sauron's armies.**

**Please put your answers in the comments.**

**A:An army made of orcs and elite Wraith units.**

**B: An Uruk Hai army with Wraiths.**

**C:The people of the region formed into an army with Orc Units that work together as one Legion.**

**My opposition against option A is that it will take too long to form such a force.**

**I just don't feel right about option B**

**Option C seems un Sauron like.**

**Please put your reference in the comments, it helps my produce these a lot faster.**

**Sincerely**

**ST LORT**


	4. UPDATE (Please read, and don't ignore)

Hello readers of Sauron's Exile, Stranded Jedi and Westerosi Assassin.

This isn't a new chapter, sorry, in this short update I am going to tell you something that you may find, useless, helpful or damm straight stupid or something else.

Any story related stuff that I would like to show you but am unable through the Fanfiction level will be viewable on a special Google Plus that has been made.

Just search ST LORT on google and you should find it.

This is a bit more important for Sauron's Exile than the rest, because I will upload pics of armour and stuff there.

But it will have content of the other stories.

One more thing, do you have any questions but do not have a Fanfiction account, you can ask them through Email.

Sincerly ST LORT


	5. Chapter 4

**For now, I assume that option C is the most wanted and it is my favorite after some research, B is going to be saved for another resurrection. **Saruman

''_What does death feel like?''_

Sauron has pondered on this question on the past, and even now the answer on this question has been taken from him. He has locked himself in the library for several days now, studying the history, lore and myths of these lands, now and then Jareal passed by dropping food, Sauron's first reply was that he didn't need food or fluids but Jareal told him that if he wanted to blend in like a lord he had to eat at their banquets and be found drinking wine while working, thus convincing Sauron to pick up the tradition of eating food.

The information was very helpful for his next course of actions, the last bit of information he studied was geography and layout of the lands, especially the lands that are under his control.

Several days past and Jareal came to him with King Robert's reply, the message contained the message that King Robert now recognized him as the rightful ruler of Blackcrown and its surrounding regions.

Sauron sits in his study, putting down something on paper that has been on his mind for some time, he sketches something on a paper the piece of charcoal he took from the fireplace for it, moves quickly over the paper the lines becoming clearer with each movement, Sauron strokes his hand over the paper and looks pleased at the result.

The blade is slender, curved, single edged with a circular guard and a long grip to accommodate two hands.

(A/N, I wanted to submit a chapter with links to all the stuff that I will be using for armor, then I found out that Fanfiction messes up Hyperlinks, so yea I'm kind of disappointed, only thing I can do is upload them at mine Google + ST LORT, email , only for story related stuff.)

_Essos_

Khâmul and his two companions land on a small cliff, overlooking grasslands, with not too far away, an small village with shepherds looking after their sheep, their three fell beasts resting behind them from the long journey to Essos.

One of the Nazgul holds an map showing the continent of Essos.

Khâmul turns to that Nazgul that is holding the map.

''**Where are we?''**

The Nazgul seems to be studying the map and shortly after replies.

''**Lhazar''**

Khâmul turns to the small village that lies in the shadow of the cliff, with a cool breeze blowing over the plains.

''**These lands are perfect, we will build up an Empire, made in the same style as Rhûn, to these people we will be like liberators''.**

The Nazgul folds the map and puts it back.

''**What do you mean by liberators?''**

Khâmul replies and points to what seems to be an small dust storm.

''**These lands are plagued by an people of Horse Lords, they kidnap the people as slaves. So we will liberate their villages, why did you think I forced that craftsman to make those armors for us!''**

The third Nazgul drops one of the large packs tied tightly to the saddles that are on the back of the Fellbeasts .

Out of the pack rolls an helmet.

The helmet has an dragon skull shape, exactly like those formerly used by the Easterlings.

''**They will be a Legion of trained soldiers**. **Once they except our culture over theirs''**

About 50 Dothraki Warriors ride on the horses, in full gallop they ride to the village, it almost looks like they are flying.

An what older shepherd dressed in vale green clothing looks up from tending his sheep, his eyes widen in fear, as he sees the Dothraki approach their weapons reflecting the sun light shining as small suns themselves, he quickly runs to his village to warn them about the Dothraki. HE runs into the village shouting warning everyone about the Dothraki, fear quickly ensues, but some young lads about in their twenties arm themselves with pitchforks and run forward to defend their village, they run to the front where they form an disordered line.

The Dothraki hold their horses in front of their village, dirt being plowed up as the horses hooves plow the ground open in the sudden stop.

(A/N, I do not know which language, the Lhazareen speak, and I can't speak Dothraki So are there any objections if I use just normal English, and just say it's translated?. Let me know).

The Shepherds, point their pitchforks at the Dothraki as these come to a stop in front to them.

''Don't come any closer!''

One of the Shepherds, with copper skin and black hair, that has apparently took leadership upon himself stands in front of the rest and close to the Dothraki.

The Dothraki laugh at the Shepherds that have come to stop them, they are dressed in horsehair leggings and brown painted leather vests, they all have braids, and the front Dothraki's braid is longer than of the one's that ride with him. They carry strange weapons, they seem to be half scythe and half sword. An Arakh.

''Put that fork down Lamb Man, you are more useful to us as an slave''.

The copper skinned man tightens his grip on the pitchfork's shaft, and points at the face of the Dothraki's leader.

The Dothraki Leader looks at the three pointed pitchfork that stands only a few centimeters away of giving him three new breathing possibilities. He laughs and gets of his horse.

''You think you can threaten me Lamb Man!''

The Dothraki Leader signals to some of his riders who slowly ride around the small band of shepherds, some of the latter keeping their pitchforks aimed at them, turning to keep them that way.

The Dothraki slowly walks forwards towards the copper skinned man who points the pitchfork forward until where it touches the Dothraki Leader causing three small bloodstreams to stream down his skin onto the ground where it colors the ground crimson red.

The Dothraki looks at the pitchfork that penetrates his skin, he than looks back up and walks forward shouting at the copper skinned shepherd.

''The beetles will feed on your eyes!. Worms will crawl through your lungs! The Rain will fall on your rotting skin.. until nothing is left but bones!''.

The Shepherd thrusts his pitchfork at the Dothraki, who simply steps aside, and with a quick chop with his arm breaks the wood, leaving the shepherd with nothing more than a stick.

The Dothraki than hits the shepherd in the stomach , making the shepherd fold down, he then knees him in the face clapping him back and making him slide about five meters back.

''Pray to your gods to save you and hope…'' The Dothraki pulls his Arakh and swings it around in a showcase to increase the intimidation.

''for they will not!''

The Dothraki brings his Arakh up for an cutting motion supposed to separate the shepherd's head from his shoulders.

Then…suddenly. An ear deafening scream sounds through the sky, as an dark shadow falls over them.

The Dothraki looks up and widens his eyes… moments later, the Fellbeast comes down and grips him with his strong bite, then slingers his body away, spitting the head at the feet of the Dothraki.

The horses stumble back in fear and the Dothraki have difficulty maintaining control over them, the shepherds stumble back as they look in both awe and fear at this great dragon like creature, as an loud noise can be heard.

The creature's rider holds an large jagged sword, he quickly strides forward and strikes it through the closest Dothraki warrior, with such remarkable speed that the warrior didn't even have enough time to pull his Arakh to try and parry the blow.

Two other dragon like creatures descend to the ground, sending the horses into total chaos making them throw off their riders and run off, shouted after by their riders. The riders then pull their Arakhs and slowly approach the Nazgul.

_Westeros_

Sauron looks on as Jareal teaches about ten wraiths in the basics of forging tools, weapons and other items with help of the schematics, methods and designs provided by Sauron.

Sauron walks through the row of Wraiths, as they forge weapons, designed by Sauron. (A/N, All information on weapons and stuff is on the google +, it will be very helpful for you for understanding the story)

One of the Wraiths takes an light yet agile to look on curved sword, on which he had been hammering for some while, from the anvil and puts it in a cask of water, steam rises from it as the hot blade cools down in the water, evaporating some of it.

A bit further down the road, some other Wraiths finish these swords by adding an long curved wooden handle, designed to be diverse, the blade able to be grabbed on several parts of the handle, allowing the wielder to adjust it to his preference, the blade although being more designed for ceremony, will do its job excellently in the field of battle

Sauron passes an empty forge, several materials lay there, and an hammer lies on the anvil. Sauron pulls the drawing from his pocket and gazes upon it, an small smile forms on his face, as he steps into the forge.

(A/N, I don't know how forging works and the internet hasn't been very helpful, if any of these readers know this please enlighten me)

Sauron first starts by creating an mold for his blade ,he puts on a pair of heat resistant gloves and then begins his work, the creating takes some time, Sauron measures the time by looking at the stand of the Sun in the sky, through an small window that gives an view on the outside world and shines light into the forge. After the mold is done, Sauron smiles at his work, his fingers slowly stroke it as memories of his past come to him in full glory.

'_I forgot the pleasure there is in creating something…'_

Sauron quickly gazes over his environment, and spots several ingots of steel created by the previous smith, Sauron takes these pieces and carefully studies them, taking away pieces that are too soft and setting them aside he also does this with the pieces that are too hard, what is left he is able to use in his process.

He grabs an mold that is used to warm the steel to an certain temperature so that it can be manipulated in any form, he knows he can do this many times faster, by using his powers, but his instinct tells him to do this the long way.

'_No! I want to feel the steel, hammer it into shape with my own hands..'_

He grabs an shovel and sticks it into an small pile of coal, he throws the coal he picks up into the furnace, he repeats this process, after he finds the amount of coal enough, he puts down the shovel and uses the bellow to pump air into the furnace ,he uses this to warm the furnace to an good temperature, he then using an handle lowers the mold into the furnace, where the steel slowly starts to melt, he then sits down in front of the furnace, to stay close so that he can prevent the fire from losing intensity.

Sometime later he carefully pulls the mold out of the furnace, and pours the molten steel in to the mold he uses to create his sword. The molten steel slowly drips into the mold, radiating red shining off the environment.

He waits for some time as he pulls the now a bit cooled down metal out of the mold, it already has the form of an blade, the metal is still warm but more solid than the molten steel.

He can adapt the shape to any form he wishes it to be. Sauron grabs an hammer and tightens his grip on the wooden handle with leather strips to make it easier for the user to hold it and sometimes preventing that the handle will slip out of sweaty hands.

He then brings it down on the blade, making sparks jump up from it, the hammering creates an clear echoing sound, music to Sauron's ears. As it has been long since his hands have hold one of these that an hammer has touched his skin. He continuously hammers the _Katana, _hammering it into the shape he wants it to be in. The clear sound of the hammering sounds through the forge onto the courtyard, joined by the several Wraiths who are creating their own weapons.

_Essos_

The Dothraki's overhand slash is blocked by Khâmul who then hits the Dothraki in the face with his armored glove, the Dothraki nose bone flies up into the Dothraki's brain, piercing through it. Killing him instantly.

Only a few Dothraki are left, the bodies of the rest riddle the field, with the fell best feasting on some of the corpses, one of the Dothraki steps back his focus on the Nazgul who stands in front of him, as an piercing pain hits his back and he falls down on his knees. One of the shepherds drives his pitchfork into the Dothraki's back, and now adds more pressure forcing the Dothraki face down in the mud, the Nazgul then quickly finishes him off by chopping off his head, the shepherd with the Nazgul than quickly finish off the remaining Dothraki.

The copper skinned shepherd falls on his knee in front of the Nazgul.

''You saved us. How can we ever repay you?''

The Nazgul looks at the copper skinned shepherd, and signals him to get up from the mud.

''**By repaying us, you will liberate yourselves. We will teach you to stand up against the Dothraki, we will arm you against their oppression. You will be an powerful EMPIRE**!''

**So, what do you think?**

**Be honest, criticize me for using Samurai armor and stuff, or be honest.**

**Oh yea, I have been thinking of using roman legionnaires as the base for Sauron's force design, because their high discipline and order, will suit Sauron's desire for it. **

**Any questions, just ask me**

**Sincerely ST LORT **


	6. Chapter 5

**Part 4, continuing where I left off last time.**

**Sauron's fair form is based on the one seen in Shadow of Mordor**

**MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY, MAY YOU HAVE A HAPPY HOLIDAY**

**Author Note: Currency is based off what I read in the books, like the bounty on Gregor was 100 Silver Stags, making that quite an considerable amount because he is an skilled and feared warrior. Making common soldiers search him out for that high a price.**

(Several weeks have past, in both Essos and Westeros)

Sauron looks onto the carpenters and workers, who are building an training camp where he will train his legions. The camp isn't too far away from Blackcrown only a few miles positioned away from the castle.

Sauron remembers the message he sent to every single village and town in the region.

**I Sauron of the House of Larot, hereby request that all workers, carpenters and stone masons that are currently without an assignment to come to Castle Blackcrown, where they will be put to work with the considerable pay of 1 Golden Dragon**

**They will be paid quite well.**

**Second, I order that notices to be hanged around the villages and towns, offering men a chance to serve as my troops, they will serve for 25 standard years, before they are given the choice to retire with certain privileges, including a piece of land that will stay in their family for all generations to come or keep in duty and serve before being retired.**

**They will receive 5 Silver Stags per month.**

**I prefer these messages to be hang two weeks after this message is send.**

**Third , because of the large treasury available to me, I lower the taxes with 10%.**

**And last, this message contains designs that are to be sent to the blacksmiths and produced in the numbers specified, I want them delivered to Blackcrown in three weeks.**

**Sauron of the House of Larot**

After that, he send several Wraiths to recruit trainers and skilled warriors to help him in training his legions, offering them the position of Centurions, who will lead 80 men each, with the considerable pay off 40 Silver Stags per month. He remembers how the Wraiths rode out, in their diplomatic armor, with an magically constructed body. Not completely weak as humans, but much more resilient, they were gifted these bodies as their anchors to this world, as with the Nazgul it are the rings. With these Wraiths it are these bodies. This magic left him weakened and tired, actually forcing him to rest for several days. It was then that Sauron met the boundaries this body put on his powers, that he hadn't felt for one reason when he melted the Duke.

Several hundred workers and carpenters came allured and attracted by the payments offered. With help of some of them and of the Maester, Sauron picked an location for the camp, surrounded by lush woods made up of Oakwood trees at the north and the west, with grass plains to the east and south, with streams flowing through it. They started by chopping trees, taking away the costs of importing wood, they constructed several structures, including an Armory, an Dining Hall and an Main Hall. After that they set up several dozen tents, and build obstacle courses, outlined the fields that would be used for training, creating paths through the woods that would be used for hikes.

The first shipments of the requested supplies came in at the precise time. Delivered by a few dozen men, who brought 10 wagons full. He paid them 50 Golden Dragons, paying enough to be supplied for five months, and the supplies arrived per two weeks. Each two weeks meant, he could supply 100 men more.

Not too long after the supplies came the Wraiths returned with several trainers, Sauron recognized them as hardened warriors and hedge knights.

Sauron walked through the camp and wondered why he actually bothered improving everything.

'_Logical, what I do for them. They will repay with loyalty, especially after what the Duke did to them.''_

Sauron walks into the main hall, where the soon to be Centurions have gathered.

''Greetings'' Sauron nods to the men that stand at the large table that takes in most of the hall.

He walks to the head of the table and sits down on an simple wooden chair.

''I trust that my emissaries have been brief and a bit shadowy in explaining your jobs, aren't I right?''

First some silence as they seem to decide who of them should speak, not long after that an warrior steps forward, he has a shaved chin, with gray eyes and short black hair.

''Yes, milord. They have only told us that you will explain it''

Sauron once again smiles at people calling him lord without intimidation, and then replies to the man.

''Now, you will be men of a certain high positon in my army. You will each command 80 men, a Century. Those who show great loyalty and skill, will command a cohort that is comprised of ten Century's.

But first I will teach you the tactics and the fighting skills you need to know, and then you will pass them down to your Legionnaires. You will all be assigned a suit of armor that will specify your rank, but you will not be using this in training. Any questions?''

A Mercenary, ugly with a large nose and small reptile like eyes, with a bald head replies.

''Yes, why should I listen to someone who looks like a man but has the hair of a woman!?''

Sauron stares to his long elvish style hair from the corner of his eye, he forgot it.

'_But nevermind, first I am going to teach this man a lesson in respect'_

Sauron slowly rises from his chair, with anger slowly creeping into his eyes turning it red, but the man who had challenged him wasn't the smartest of the bunch, and continued his insult.

''I will never obey a command from a guy like you!''

Some of the Wraiths approached the man, with their swords half drawn from their sheaths, but stopped and moved back when Sauron raised his hand and with another motion ordered them to let him do it himself.

''Yeah, come here and beat me up yourself!''

Sauron stops in front of the man, who is somewhat taller than him and looks down on him.

The man punches Sauron, hitting his head sideward causing him to stagger back a few steps, he quickly turns his face back, while he wipes a stream of blood of his face that streams down from his swollen lip.

'_SO now I can bleed as mortals!? How low I have sunk from great and powerful, but first I am going to get rid of this pest'_

The man tries to punch Sauron again, but Sauron simply side steps the man's arm, and hits him in his face, disorientating him. The man staggers against the table and loses his balance.

Sauron quickly exploits and gives a kick against the man's knee, with such force that the sound of breaking bones is heared through the room. The man falls on one knee as his one leg isn't able to support him, but Sauron isn't done yet. He grabs the Man's head and with several quick motions, slams it against the Oakwood table, so hard that the the man's nose cracks and his eyes turn away as he falls unconscious on the ground.

Sauron stands straight and addresses the men that stand in awe, at how quick he dispatched a very experienced warrior.

''I reward those who serve me well! But those who resist me, will suffer!''

Sauron points to the man that is dragged away by several wraiths, as he says his ominous words.

''Now swear loyalty to me, and serve the Lord of Blackcrown. Repeat these words, and swear yourself to me.''

The men look at each other, but then the man who addressed him first falls on his knee, quickly followed by the rest.

They swear their loyalty as one, saying the words as one.

**Essos**

Khâmul looks on as the other two Nazgul come back from their little trip, they went back to the smith and procured several dozen sets of armor from him, while Khâmul started drilling the shepherds, first they drilled with their pitchforks, in the few weeks the others were gone. Khâmul managed to get a reasonable amount of discipline in them, in the meanwhile the village started growing, as Lhazareen of the region heard that three Warriors on great winged creatures protected them and trained them to fight the Horde of Dothraki.

Khâmul set everyone to work, men able to fight were divided in units of 100 men, all the men that weren't formed in units, worked with the woman and the children on tending to their flocks and fields, building new houses and building palisades.

The groups switched around, Khâmul drilled and trained a group for six full hours, then for one hour he trained nobody, then he started training the next group. This meant that they were in a constant rotation.

Some of the younger children and woman were trained in the use of bows, some men protested. Khâmul replied with the reasoning that they needed archers, and that the women and children will be able to protect themselves, ''The scourge of War doesn't discriminate on gender or age''.

Of course there weren't enough armors and weapons, so the other two Nazgul went on a mission of getting smiths and weapons. They took first one smith and his family, and several sets of armor, the next they did the same.

Every run they brought about twenty sets with them, and per week they were able to make 6 runs, making the amount of smiths twelve, and the amount of sets two hundred and sixty.

They had six smiths, but the problem now became metal, with one of the smiths, Khâmul studied the cliffs and mountains that surrounded the village at the south, west and partially the east.

In one of the caverns they uncovered a supply of iron ore, and coal, several men that weren't in any unit where put to work at digging it up, with the reasoning that it will make them strong and tough.

Khâmul knew that he and the other Nazgul couldn't not at any possibility train everyone, so some of the very promising soldiers were trained personally by him, so that they could pass down the training themselves.

He and the other two Nazgul sit in decorated wooden chairs, at a large oak wooden table with an map of Essos on it.

''**The problem is, with all the shepherds and villagers flocking here that the Dothraki will learn of us, and will come to kill them all!''**

One of the Nazgul looks at Khâmul waiting for the latter's reply.

''**That's why we must hurry with our preparations, and devise the unit makeup. I want to divide the units in four types, after traditional Rhûn organizations. We will have trained spearmen, that will spear halberd hybrids, and fight with sword and shield in close quarters. They will be our main answer to Dothraki charges. As you have probably seen woman and children are trained to use, weak recurve bows, they will be firing from our walls and NOT be taken into the field, where they will probable turn heel and run. For Battlefield archers, we will train men in creating composite long bows with incredible range and power and how they will use these in battle, they will be able to keep Dothraki archers at a distance, and thin out the Dothraki at their initial charge to us. We will have heavy cavalry units that will flank the Dothraki when they engage our heavy spearman. We will steal the horses from the Dothraki. And when we face other armies, we will have heavy infantry wielding axe, mace and shield that will subdue any infantry our enemy will send against us!.''**

Khâmul pauses to look at the two Nazgul, who seem to be nodding at his ideas, then he continues.

''**The spearmen will be called 'Lôke-Gamp Rim'. The Archers 'Lôke-Nar Rim'. The heavy infantry will be called 'Lôke-Flag Rim'. And the Cavalry 'Lôke-Kha Rim'. They will conquer this continent, one county at a time!'**

**Westeros**

**(A week past, the new 'Centurions' being trained by Sauron quickly and efficiently, because they are experienced warriors, they picked it up quickly and are ready to train legionnaires of Blackcrown)**

Sauron looks on as the first recruits walk into the camp, coming with the supply convoy. With his keen eyes, Sauron can tell they are about 200 in numbers. Much more than that he expected, he smiles. The promise of a high pay probably attracted people from beyond his domain, well that is a good thing and not a bad. Sauron walks towards several of the signing tables were recruits can sign themselves for service. A few of the Centurions sit behind them, fully dressed in their armor. Their body armor is made of metal strips at the torso. The shoulders are protected by overlaying metal strips, they wear metal bracers, and metal greaves. The helmet, has red transverse horsehair on it in the shape of a crest. The helmet is made out of one piece of metal with cheek guards that end in a point, the helmet had a round form, with an ridged extension at the back that serves as an neckgaurd, a reinforced peak and has a small knob on it, where the centurions the horsehair crest is attached to. Many recruits look with their jaws dropped at the armor these men were, as they have never seen anything quite like it. They signed with even more enthusiasm, as they were told that all legionnaires will wear those, minus the horsehair crest.

After the signing the recruits are divided into groups of 80, a century each led by a Centurion, then divided into groups of 8, each group of eight was assigned a tent. After that each was given a set of training armor, they were surprised by its heaviness, each group went to its tent. Were they are allowed a day of exploring and looking, before a horn sounds and they are called to a dinner in the dining hall. The dinner was made simple but nutritious, and gave them energy. Sauron sits at the head of the table with his Centurions, and rises.

The men fall silent as they recognize the man as their new lord.

''Soldiers of Blackcrown!. That is what you will call yourself after this day, honorable men, fighting to preserve your families. Enjoy your meals, drink your wine, for tomorrow, hard and rigorous training shall begin. Training that will hone you into great and feared warriors throughout Westeros!''

Sauron pauses as he hears the men chant his name.

Larot,Larot,Larot!

As the room falls silent, Sauron raises his cup, and the rest follow him in his image.

''And now I raise my cup to you brave legionnaires of Blackcrown!''

The men chant something else.

''To the lord of Blackcrown, Larot!''

Sauron sits back down, as one of his Centurions compliments him on his short speech, Sauron thanks the man, and grins.

**So, what do you think? Did you like it, I certainly did** **enjoy writing it.**

**Any suggestions, Flame or constructive criticism. Just write a review!**

**I will take everything under consideration, because remember.**

**YOU influence this story.**

**Sincerely**

**ST LORT **


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